


Musical Chairs

by Kadorienne



Series: Musical Chairs [1]
Category: DCU, The X-Files
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-02-05
Updated: 2011-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-07 01:17:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 17,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kadorienne/pseuds/Kadorienne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU series about Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Grey Bard, who helped *extensively* on the concept development.

Martha was standing by the window late that night when she saw it. "Dear, come look at this," she said, and her husband put down his newspaper and strolled over.

"A meteor?" Thomas Wayne speculated, peering out.

"It seems awfully close," she said, and a moment later the windows of their summer house shook with the impact.

Thomas immediately went to the door. His wife protested, "Are you sure it's safe, dear?"

"We have to make sure it didn't cause a fire!"

Only hesitating for a moment, Martha followed him. They both hurried out onto the spacious lawn, slowing when they drew near enough to see that it wasn't a meteorite.

"A spaceship?" Martha whispered aloud.

"Or a satellite, it's so small. But whose? I don't recognize those markings."

Then they both fell silent, because the door to the little craft opened, and an unmistakable sound emerged. A baby crying.

Martha ran forward instantly, scooping the child out and cradling it close. "The poor little thing!"

Thomas had moved to her side at once. "Martha, we don't know who...." His voice trailed off as the baby stopped crying and looked at them both with apparent trust, and he knew they were both lost.

"Who could put a helpless baby in a spaceship? All alone! Thank heavens he wasn't hurt!"

Thomas's jaw set grimly as he softly touched the child's tiny hands. "I don't know, but if they try to take him back, I'll sic every lawyer in Gotham on them."

"No one needs to know he isn't ours," Martha said slowly. "That is... that he wasn't born ours."

He put a protective arm around her shoulders. "That's true, Martha. Now let's see if we can find something he can eat in the kitchen. I'll send Alfred out for baby food in the morning."

They walked slowly back to the house, never taking their eyes off the child from the stars.

"Clark Wayne," he murmured aloud experimentally as he held the door open for his wife and their son.

* * *

When Jonathan Kent got home that afternoon, his wife wasn't in the house. A quick look around the fields didn't show her, but her pickup was in the driveway. He finally found her out in the orchard, down on her knees digging in the dirt with her hands, her back to him.

"Martha?" he asked, tentative, as he moved towards her.

He knew she was aware of his presence, but she didn't answer or look up, just kept digging. He got close enough to look over her shoulder and his heart sank. She had formed a rough little statue of a baby from the red clay.

Finally she sat back on her heels. "I went back to the doctor today. He says I can't." She stopped there before she could start crying again.

He put a hand on her shoulder. "Well, now. Doctors don't know everything, they just think they do." And there he had to stop, because a lump came into his throat.

She put her dirt-smeared hand over his, and neither of them said anything for a minute.

At length she raised her voice in prayer. Both of them had gone to church most Sundays all their lives because it was the done thing, but neither had ever been particularly devout. Which probably accounted for the form Martha's prayer took.

"If anybody is listening," she said to the sky, "please, please let us have a child."

Somebody was, as it happened, listening.

The baby statue began to glow. The Kents hardly had time to stare at the glow before it dissipated, but when it was gone, the red clay statue was no longer there, and a living, breathing, flesh-and-blood baby girl was in its place.

"Jonathan!" Martha gasped, but she couldn't say anything else. She gathered the baby up, and it was still a real baby, wriggling and waving its tiny arms.

Jonathan dropped to his knees beside her and put his own hand on their miracle child – his work-roughened hand covered nearly half the tiny girl's body. The Kents held each other's eyes for a long moment of awe before returning their attention to the child.

After that, the Kents with their new little daughter Diana became avid churchgoers, but those on Olympus didn't blame them for the error.

* * *

Having dwelled on an island with only women for three thousand years, when Hippolyte, Queen of the Amazons, began to yearn for a child, her only recourse was to ask the gods for a blessing. And after several months of prayer, she began to notice certain symptoms. Not quite daring to hope, she consulted the physicians, who gently prodded her stomach and confirmed, with awe for the gods in their voices, that her request had been granted.

When the news of the queen's blessing spread through Themyscira, the Amazons planned a great celebration to be held on the child's birth. Everyone rushed to offer gifts and allegiance to the new princess while she was still a thickness at their monarch's waist. Hippolyte began to be annoyed, though she graciously concealed it, at the way her sisters treated her as if she were crippled, unable to lift a stylus on her own.

For millennia the Amazons had been spared the attendant discomforts of pregnancy, which made Hippolyte's perhaps a bit more trying than most. And when the princess was ready to enter the world, Hippolyte could not help being afraid, remembering the agony she had witnessed in the women of patriarch's world so long ago. But if an ordinary woman could endure it, surely an Amazon could, and she bore the labor as bravely as she had borne battle with armies of fierce men or the great monsters trapped beneath Themiscyra.

She named the princess Briseis.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhoods.

Jonathan Kent thought his heart was going to stop.

The bull was supposed to be in his own pen, not out in the pasture. Like any farm child, Diana had been taught carefully to check where the bull was before going into the pasture. Jonathan didn't doubt that she had, but there he was, pawing the ground and giving the little girl a disgruntled look.

The bull lowered its massive head and started to charge. "Diana!" Jonathan yelled, uselessly running towards the fence, even though it was thirty yards away and he would never get anywhere close in time.

"Diana!" Martha's grief-stricken voice rose behind him. She must have just stepped out the door and seen their daughter's peril.

Diana glanced up and saw the bull a few feet away from her, bearing down. Very coolly, as if it were the normal response of a little girl to seeing a fierce horned creature racing towards her, she rose into the air and watched as the bull, unable to break its own momentum, ran beneath her.

Jonathan froze, staring. Behind him, he could hear his wife's strangled exclamation.

Slowly, their daughter turned in the air to face them. Then, looking more perturbed than she had at seeing an enraged bull bearing down upon her, she flew towards her parents.

Martha had run to her husband's side and they clutched each other's arms. Their little girl reached them and landed on the ground before them, lightly as a bird.

After thinking it over for a minute, Diana began, "Remember when I started telling you about my 'imaginary friends' when I was little, and you thought I got them from watching _Hercules_?"

"We've been raising Xena?" Martha mumbled.

"This is still Kansas, isn't it?" Jonathan muttered back.

* * *

"Oh, man, that movie was great!" Clark Wayne could scarcely contain his excitement.

"Hold your horses there, pardner," his father joked. "We'll be home soon, you can cut loose there."

Clark smiled at his parents, despite the usual frustration of not being able to soar into the air, lift cars, and all the other wonderful things he could do. His father had actually gotten him some sort of military stealth thingamajig so that he could fly without being detected by radars or whatever, but he could only use it at night, since it wouldn't conceal him from the naked eye.

"Stop right there and hand over your money, pal," a voice growled. The Waynes stopped in surprise and turned to stare at the newcomer, an agitated man holding a gun in a hand that trembled.

"All right, all right," Thomas said, holding up his hands placatingly. Then he reached into his pocket. Perhaps misunderstanding the gesture, the mugger fired.

Had the shuttle from Krypton not landed in the Wayne's yard, this evening might have gone very badly for them. As it was, their invulnerable son took flight, superspeeded in front of his parents before the bullets could reach them, and hovered in the air scowling as the slugs bounced off him.

When the baffled mugger took to his heels, little Clark Wayne simply flew after him and lifted him by his collar, making sure to shake him till he dropped his gun and use his X-ray vision to make sure he didn't have any other weapons. He flew back to his parents with his prey. "What should we do with him, Mom and Dad?"

"Clark! You shouldn't have done that, you could have been killed!" Martha cried.

"Mooooom. You _know_ about my powers. I could not."

Martha tried to stop wringing her hands, but certain knowledge was no match for hard-wired instincts.

"You hold him, Clark. I'll call the police," his father said. The mugger kicked his legs in the air uselessly.

"But what can we tell the police?" Martha protested. "Maybe we'd better just let him go."

"We can't do that!" Clark said. "What if he tries to kill someone else, whose kid can't do what I can?"

Thomas hesitated only for a moment. A little over a decade in the future, superpowered beings roaming the streets fighting crime in brightly colored costumes would become a routine sight, but he had no way of knowing this. "We'll tell them we caught a mugger, that's all! I'll hold his own gun on him. If he tells them he was caught by a little boy who can fly and lift grown men with one hand, who's going to believe him?"

The police didn't believe him, and the illegal substances revealed by a blood test provided a simple explanation for his ravings. But for years after that, Clark would sometimes look at his parents and feel suddenly frightened, at the thought of what might have happened that night if it weren't for the effects a yellow sun had on him. And often when he read in the paper or saw on the news about murders and such things, he felt pity, because none of those people had an adopted Kryptonian to look after them.

It was inevitable that eventually this fear and this sympathy would nudge him to take action.

* * *

For three thousand years, the Amazons had kept the monsters sealed beneath their island. Every few centuries, the creatures would breach the walls that kept them in, and usually it cost a few lives to contain them again. But Briseis was far too young to remember any such incident. For her, the guards always posted at the well reinforced entrance were a matter of tradition. She only even saw them on the day each year when the entire tribe gathered at the entrance for the annual ritual in which they commemorated their fallen sisters, sisters Briseis had never met. It was the only day on which Briseis was permitted near that part of the island.

Most of the island was beautiful. Briseis could see that even though she had nothing to compare it to – nothing except this heavy door of stone and iron. It was the only structure on Themiscyra which had no embellishment or ornamentation; it had not seemed appropriate.

Briseis stood close to her mother, both of them with their hands held up in reverence as Menalippe recited the ancient prayers for the fallen warriors. Despite the somber setting, the day was lovely; the sky was cloudless and full of sunshine, and not far away, birds were singing cheerfully, unconcerned with the grief of mortals. The princess longed to get her horse and gallop along the beach; it was a perfect day for riding. She glanced up at her mother and saw the sheen of tears in Hippolyte's eyes as the fallen were named, and felt guilty for her restlessness. She wished that she had known the Amazons who had died. Then she would not be thinking of other things on this sorrowful day.

All of the Amazons looked grave as the names were listed. Some wept, when an especially close sister or lover was mentioned, but none broke position. On this day, all Amazons honored their fallen sisters by wearing full armor. Even Princess Briseis, years too young to be expected to face combat, was wearing a small suit of armor, complete with helmet, shield and little sword.

The list completed, Menalippe continued with the traditional prayers for their sisters in the Elysian fields. Counterpoint was provided by an occasional few notes from nearby birds. The cheerful sound was oddly fitting, life-affirming on this solemn occasion.

The birds went silent, and a moment later so did Menalippe. A low rumble of thunder sounded.

The princess frowned up at the clear blue sky. Every other Amazon unsheathed her sword and assumed a fighting stance.

"Phillipus," the queen commanded, "take the princess to safety."

Phillipus reached for Briseis's hand, but before they took more than one step, the stone wall began to crumble. Huge muscled inky arms boiled over from the breach, reaching, grasping.

A volley of spears met the hecatoncheire, but the monster was unstoppable. Phillipus and Briseis were brought up short by another eruption of immense arms. Phillipus thrust the girl behind her and slashed the arms repeatedly with her sword.

Too afraid to scream, Briseis looked back to the crumbling entrance. Her mother and several other Amazons were battling the thing fiercely. The wall crumbled further, and Briseis felt the blood leave her face. A seven-headed dragon clawed out of the rubble and helped itself to a snack of two Amazons, regarding the rest with serpentine hunger. Hippolyte dove in under its heads to attack its body. Its forelegs, which appeared frail compared to the rest of it, broke the Queen's neck with ease and dropped her body to the ground.

Briseis was frozen in place, staring at her slain mother, when Phillipus, having beaten back the arms that greedily reached for her and the child, seized the princess and ran. When they were at a safe distance, the general set her princess on the ground and knelt, placing her hands on the child's shoulders and looking into her face.

"Princess, I must go back and join the battle. Your mother's dying command to me was to see you safe. Will you honor her wishes by running to the palace and staying there until the battle is over?"

The princess nodded her tear-streaked face. "Yes, Phillipus."

Phillipus kissed her forehead. "You are an Amazon, little sister." With that, she turned and ran back to the battleground.

Briseis ran as she had been ordered, stopping only when she was inside the palace, in her mother's room, where she curled up on her mother's bed. If not for Phillipus's words, she would have gone back to the battlefield and let the monsters kill her, if only she could hurt them some first.

It was hours before the monsters were contained again. It was Euboea, exhausted like all of the others, who came to tell the princess.

"I will stay with you tonight, princess," she offered.

Briseis got down off the bed. "Thank you, Euboea, but I must help tend the wounded. I can do that even if I cannot fight with my sisters yet."

Euboea managed the ghost of a smile. "You are your mother's daughter," she said, taking the girl's hand.

"I am an Amazon," Briseis said quietly as they headed for the hospital quarters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bonus ficlet about young Clark Wayne, sort of an AU to the AU. Outside the series' continuity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we go on, here's a bonus fic, an alternate version of the seminal event of Clark Wayne's childhood. When I was first working on this series, I thought I might go with the _Smallville_ concept that there was so much Kryptonite all over the place that Clark's powers took a long time to manifest. At least, that's how a friend told it to me; I never did watch the series. I wrote this bit before I had made up my mind which way to go.

"You liked the movie, Clark?" Thomas Wayne asked with an indulgent smile. The boy had always been a little sickly, and it was good to see him enjoying himself.

"I wish I could do that! Taste my steel, villains!"

"Maybe when you grow up, you can," his mother said, giving his hair a stroke. "Just keep eating your vegetables."

Clark always ate his vegetables, because he had been told over and over that they would make him healthier. So far it hadn't seemed to work. Just now, in fact, he suddenly felt some of that dizzy-tired feeling that kept coming back to him. He concentrated on continuing to walk steadily, so his parents wouldn't make him go to bed as soon as they got home and take medicine.

"Another of those green rocks," Thomas remarked without real interest, kicking the small rock aside. "I swear I never used to see that kind of rock, and now it seems to be everywhere."

Martha glanced at it. "I don't remember seeing them before a few years ago either. Clark, are you all right?"

"I'm fine!" he insisted as Martha felt his forehead dubiously.

"You! Gimme your money!"

The unfamiliar voice was loud, and so close to them the Waynes jumped; they hadn't seen the man standing in the shadows. But now he was coming at them swiftly, his face tense and furious.

It was the surprise of the stranger charging at him that made Thomas Wayne throw his hands up to ward him off. Had the mugger stood back and shown them his gun while demanding their money, Thomas probably would have cooperated.

Seeing Thomas's fists raised to defend himself, the mugger panicked and pulled the trigger. Martha scarcely had time to begin to scream before a bullet was lodged in her as well.

For one second, Clark Wayne felt as if he could actually see the bullets tearing up his parents' insides under their skin. Then the illusion passed and he was left alone, looking at their prone bodies while the murderer ran away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adolescence.

It was much too hot to be out of the air conditioning. The girls lifted their hair off the backs of their necks and dabbed away the sweat. Chloe tried to pat down her hair, but the humidity, as always, won out. Being miles away from mousse or a hair dryer, within the hour she would look like a circus clown.

"Oww," said Lana. She had stood on top of a nest of red ants without noticing, just for a minute. A minute was all it took; her ankles were now covered with little red welts.

"I don't know why I even joined the Girl Scouts," Angie grumbled, trudging along the trail, a sweaty spot forming between her back and her backpack.

"My cousin Maria says that her troop just does crafts and takes them to nursing homes," Sandy griped.

They finally caught up to Diana Kent, who had skipped ahead of them. She turned to her fellows with a radiant smile. "Isn't this glorious? Being so close to Demeter's earth! This is even better than working on the farm!"

The other girls sighed. "Yes, Diana. It's great," Sandy groaned.

Everyone loved Diana, but she was more than a little crazy.

"Can't we stop for a while, Di?" Lana complained. "These trees look just like all the other trees."

Diana smiled at her friend with the same kind of delight she had given to Demeter's earth and Apollo's sun only a moment ago. "Your hair looks like a new penny in the sunlight, Lana," she said without self-consciousness.

Lana giggled, unconsciously flirtatious, and shook her head as she sank to the ground in the shade. "Oh, Diana. You really are a nut."

Diana ignored the tolerant grumbling of the other girls, admiring Lana in complete innocence.

On Olympus, Aphrodite was not so untroubled.

"Poor Diana. Perhaps I should intervene. The destiny we have set for her is troubled enough."

Artemis shook her head, decisive. "She is one of mine, Aphrodite. Leave her be."

* * *

The Waynes had forgotten that children grow up. Hence their surprise when Clark, who was at this point only shaving once or twice a week, confronted them one evening with a yellow legal pad and a penetrating gaze.

"I think it's time you told me the truth, Father, Mother," he announced.

"The truth?" Thomas repeated, apprehensive. He and his wife exchanged a worried glance.

"I've figured it out," Clark informed him.

"What have you figured out?" Martha asked.

Clark consulted his legal pad. "I saw a movie a couple of months ago, and it made me think.... Well, I've gathered all of the facts. First: WayneCorp has a large munitions division.

"Second: WayneCorp's pharmaceuticals division has produced ground-breaking research in genetics.

"Third: no matter what I looked up or where, I could not find any evidence of any other human who has the same powers as I do. Not even in legend. Hercules, Samson, vampires, skinwalkers: nothing I have read about fits my profile. There have been legends of men with excessive strength or speed, but not with X-ray vision, heat vision, or flight without wings. There has never been anything like me."

Martha stood and embraced her son, who was almost as tall as she was now. "Even without your powers, that would be true."

Clark returned the embrace, but shrugged. Motherly affection was not his primary concern at the moment. "So? Admit it."

"Admit what?" Thomas asked, thinking longingly of the days when he had had to explain death and how babies were made to his adopted son. Those had been so much easier. At least there had been generational precedents to follow.

Clark squared his shoulders. "I'm a prototype of a genetically engineered supersoldier, aren't I?"

His parents stared. Clark's gaze shifted between them, level, unafraid, curious.

"If you are," Thomas said slowly, "we aren't the ones who engineered you."

"Clark, you're... adopted. And we've always worried... that your biological parents, or maybe your 'engineers', would come to take you back."

Thomas snorted. "Lived in fear, more like."

"That's why we've made sure you hid your abilities."

Clark was regarding them thoughtfully. He seemed more interested than distressed. "Surely your lawyers could stop them if they tried to gain custody of me," he pointed out. "Or you could pay them off."

His father gave a bark of rueful laughter. "It's just possible that they aren't going to be restrained by lawyers, and don't want money."

Martha looked at her husband. "Should we show him...."

"Show me what?" Clark said immediately, making the question moot.

Thomas rose slowly. "Come with us, son."

In the study, Thomas pressed a concealed panel, left from the days of Prohibition, when an earlier Wayne scion had operated a private still underneath the manor for the benefit of himself and a few personal friends. It opened to reveal a descending staircase, known only to the Waynes and Alfred.

Clark followed his parents down the stairs, which were carved out of the stone. "A cave? Right under the mansion?"

"The cave's been here longer than the manor." As the door closed behind them, Thomas flipped a switch. Dim electric lights came on. A flurry of bats swooped past them, squeaking their irritation, before retreating to darker nooks.

"I wanted to have those things exterminated," Martha said in irritation, "but that would require revealing this cave's existence."

"And for your sake, Clark, we thought it best that as few people as possible know of this place."

Clark said nothing, only peered about in alert curiosity. The cave was enormous, and so far as he could see, empty. Except for something large and metallic in the very center, down at the bottom of the stairs.

"What is that?" Clark asked as they reached it.

The parents stood back as their son approached the object in fascination. A space ship, still as shiny and pristine as it had been the night it landed. Made out of some unfamiliar green-tinged silver metal, with incomprehensible symbols adorning it. Symbols which, the elder Waynes had learned and the younger one guessed, came from no terrestrial alphabet.

"It's what we found you in."

* * *

There was not one Amazon on Themiscyra who would not readily have died in the queen's stead, not only for love of Hippolyte herself, but also to restore the light in their princess's eyes. Briseis was the only child they had seen in three thousand years. All of the Amazons loved each other as sisters, but the princess had a special place in every Amazon heart.

Briseis had been a lighthearted child, but from the day of the Queen's death, she never smiled. She never cried, either, at least not when others could see her. In quiet moments, she could be seen gazing solemnly at nothing, absorbed in somber thoughts.

As soon as the funeral rites were completed, Briseis threw herself into her training with new fervor. The champions of every pursuit were always assigned to be her teachers, but now instead of learning receptively, she asked endless questions about every detail of technique, driving herself mercilessly. At first they tried to discourage her from stretching herself to her limits, but it became clear that advancing in skill was the only thing that made her gloom lift.

Her sisters could guess what she was thinking. She was preparing herself to take her turn at guard duty when she was grown up. Every Amazon thanked the gods that it would be years before she was old enough. By that time, her grief should have ebbed enough that she would not take foolish risks.

The princess was disinclined to take time away from her training for her studies. For a few months, her sisters indulged her, allowing her to spend all of her time on athletic pursuits. In time, however, her chief tutor gently insisted.

"You are right, sister," Briseis said reluctantly. After brooding for a moment, she continued, "Before we take up where we left off, will you teach me the history of the monsters beneath our island? And all about every one of the sisters we have lost?"

This was not what the tutor had hoped for, but she agreed. To her dismay, the princess wrung every scrap of information about the beasts from her. It was weeks before she could be made to pay attention to any other subject.

It was the day Briseis was having a lesson in mathematics that her mind opened. It was a simple geometric theorem, and to illustrate its application, the tutor explained that Daedalus had used it in constructing his labyrinth.

Abruptly the princess was alert and attentive. The next thing the tutor knew, she had embarked upon a crash course in engineering.

From that day forth, Briseis was eager for any knowledge that anyone cared to impart to her. Engineering remained one of her favorite subjects, and she spent long hours building miniature fortresses, siege engines, and vaults.

It wasn't until she was a grown woman that her original designs were good enough to be built. But when the princess was in her third decade, the gate to the caverns beneath her island were reinforced according to her design, which made it stronger than ever. And on the day it was completed, she stood for a long time, regarding it gravely.

Then she went to the training grounds for practice. Thanks to a great deal of grueling work, she had become the greatest athlete the Amazon race had ever known.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our little Trinity is growing up. Introducing this 'verse's Alfred and Lois Lane. Spoilers for the recent _Question_ storyline. Cameo by [Kathy Kane](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Batwoman).

Soon the Waynes' worst nightmare, of their adopted son being reclaimed by whoever had brought him into being, was laid to rest. The spaceship responded to Clark's exploratory touches (and no one else's) with holograms of his birth parents which explained the whole story of why he had been sent to Earth, what a yellow sun would do to him, everything.

He went out flying almost every night, dressed all in black so that human eyes wouldn't pick up what, thanks to WayneCorp's military stealth technology, human instruments couldn't. He kept the black suits and the equipment in the cave along with his spaceship. It seemed appropriate.

One night, late in his adolescence, Clark returned much later than usual, so exhilarated that he could barely hold still while Alfred helped him remove the stealth apparatus. "What has gotten into you, Master Clark?"

Clark opened his mouth, then bit his lip, then decided to speak after all. "Promise you won't tell Mom and Dad."

Alfred gave him the eyebrow.

"Oh, all right, promise to think about not telling them. Alfred, I saved them!"

"Saved who?"

"I saw these guys trying to mug some people, and I saved them! Just like I did with Mom and Dad, that time. No, don't worry, I didn't hurt the muggers. Well, not much. Bet they'll think twice before they try that again, though!"

Alfred had continued helping the young master with his equipment, but he had listened thoughtfully. Now he asked, "And were your beneficiaries appreciative?"

Clark squirmed, his elation quieting somewhat. "Well. They were still pretty scared, and...."

"They were afraid of you as well as of their would-be attackers?"

"Well... yeah." The boy frowned at the floor. "Mom and Dad were right," he said eventually. "Even though we don't have to worry about my bio-'rents coming for me anymore, I still have to hide what I can do or people will be afraid of me."

"Not if they know that the man with the marvelous powers is on their side. That is, if you intend to make a habit of disrupting felonies."

"Oh, yeah! When I was done, I felt like I could fly to the moon!" Clark frowned at the older man, the man who had helped raise him and who alone had been trusted with the Waynes' greatest secret. "I can't go public. Mom and Dad would freak."

Alfred Pennyworth smiled. To think that, twenty years ago, he had believed that leaving the theatre for domestic service would be dull. Thus far he had observed firsthand how one of the world's wealthiest men expanded his empire and helped to raise an alien with uncanny powers. Now he was going to have the opportunity to pass on the skills of his former career.

"You needn't do that, Master Clark. All that is required is that you acquire an alternate set of mannerisms and learn to modulate your voice." He gave the boy's black sweater a minute, unnecessary adjustment, considering. "And, of course, a costume."

Clark gazed into space, thinking this over. With his inhuman vision, in the darkness of the cave he could see the fluttering shapes of the cave's other inhabitants returning home to sleep.

"That might be a good idea," he said slowly.

* * *

Lois was just finishing a story about an attempted bank robbery when her cell buzzed. She answered without looking at the screen and immediately wished she hadn't. "Renée...." Blowing out a frustrated breath, she pushed back from the keyboard. "I told you. Your new – hobby, it's like I don't even know you anymore!" A pause. "I said I wasn't going to write about it. I won't go back on my word. Listen, I'm sorry, but I have to go."

She pushed the button and forced her concentration back to the last paragraph of her story. What a scoop, her ex-girlfriend had donned the blank mask of the Question, and she couldn't even write about it. Or keep dating her. Not that Lois objected to superheroes, but dating a paranoid angst-driven cape... not really her style.

The story finished and uploaded, she looked through her saved phone numbers. Seeing Dana again would be nice, but since joining the FBI she'd gotten closemouthed. Probably felt that dating a reporter was a conflict of interests. She could see if Kathy Kane would be in town anytime soon....

Hearing a footstep, Lois glanced up to see the new kid, a heartbreakingly earnest rookie from the sticks. One of these days, Lois would take pity on the kid and take her shopping, get her away from those shiny pressed suits that marked her as fresh off the turnip truck. Not to mention contact lenses; who wore those 50's cat's-eye glasses anymore? And why not just cut her hair shorter instead of cramming it into a schoolmarmish bun?

"Ah... Lois?"

"What is it, Smallville?" Lois tried not to sound too much like an irritated big sister.

"I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help overhearing." The poor kid visibly steeled herself. "I, er, was wondering if you might be free this Saturday? For, um, dinner or something?"

Lois was surprised, then touched. The poor little hayseed, having to grow up gay in Kansas. Still, she felt as if a 12-year-old had just confessed to having a crush on her.

"I'm flattered, Smallville, but you're just not my type. But don't worry, you're in the big city now. There's a lot of women here. I'm sure there's one for you." No doubt some women would find that backwater innocence charming.

Diana smiled nervously. "Well. Um, thanks. For the encouragement."

Lois gave her a smile and turned her attention to the papers on her desk. The press conference of Star Labs wasn't till three; she had time to try following up on the governor's new program, or that unsolved murder. She pressed 1 on her speed dial. "Hey, Perry, I'm going down to the station to see what else I can dig up about the Kay Martin murder."

"Don't you read the Planet, Lois?" Perry demanded, sarcastic. "The cub scooped you on this one."

"She did?" Lois reached for the keyboard and went to the paper's homepage. Sure enough, there it was: "Maintenance Man Arrested in Kay Martin Murder", by Diana Kent. Lois scanned the story quickly. Seems the cub reporter had found out the maintenance man in poor Kay's apartment building had a criminal record, and no alibi. When she brought this to the attention of the police, they had found that the physical evidence added up and finally made an arrest.

"The hick's smart, I'll give her that," Lois muttered.

* * *

The day the monsters broke out and escaped the island was the worst day in Amazon history since Heracles and his men betrayed them. More Amazons died that day than any other since they first came to the island.

As the survivors watched the creatures disappearing on the horizon, they all knew what must be done, and all felt the same distaste for their duty. All but the most accomplished among them, who alone was too young to have any unpleasant memories of men.

The tournament to choose their champion was only a formality.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus fic: Lois Lane/Dana Scully.

"Lois, let me ask you something." Scully was sitting with her arms loosely around her knees, her expression contemplative.

Lois stretched luxuriously, happy and relaxed. Dana always made her feel that way. Maybe it was all those years studying anatomy. "Yes?"

"Do you think my new partner is cute?"

"Mulder?" Lois asked, puzzled. "No. Why?"

Dana shrugged, and Lois enjoyed the way her copper hair moved against her creamy white skin, fair as only a natural redhead could possibly be. Not that Lois hadn't verified the naturalness in other ways, like a good investigative reporter. "Most women seem to think he is."

"They do?"

One corner of Dana's mouth quirked up. "That's why they call them straight, Lois. Everywhere we go, the straight girls just swoon over him."

Lois marvelled, not for the first time, at the strange tastes of heterosexual women. "I guess the species would die out if most women didn't like normal men. There aren't enough Timothy Daltons for all of us."

"Or Dolph Lundgrens." Having exhausted their list of conceivable exceptions, Scully went on, "But Mulder's hardly normal."

"So I heard."

Scully turned her head to scrutinize Lois's face in the dim light. "Oh?"

"Well, when you started working with him, of course I asked around, to see what people knew. Fox 'Spooky' Mulder, brilliant profiler, unfortunately obsessed with aliens and the paranormal to the detriment of his career."

Scully thought that over. "Have you ever covered a UFO story? Do you think there's anything to it?"

"A few years back, I interviewed some UFO hunters. They were going to that resort area near Gotham where a spaceship is supposed to have landed a couple decades ago, only the men in black snatched it up before anyone got a close look at it, leaving behind only a few fragments of a green meteorite." Lois gave a quick amused smile at the memory. "Their evidence wasn't exactly compelling. Why, has Spooky Mulder convinced you?"

Scully smiled with a little shake of her head. "Not so far. Nothing I've seen can't be explained in perfectly ordinary terms."

Lois sat up, only to coax Scully onto her back with a gentle tug. "If you do," she said between kisses along Scully's flawless milky skin, "I expect an exclusive."

"I hope you won't be disappointed if all I can give you is plain old human murderers," Scully answered, closing her eyes.

After that, they both stopped talking for a while.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Superwoman.
> 
> Also in this installment we see a key difference between Bruce and Briseis. I thought it over, and concluded that there wasn't really any other way of handling it.

Professor Julia Kapatelis had always been grateful that she had chosen her career before Indiana Jones had first graced the silver screen. After watching Harrison Ford being chased through booby traps, real archaeology would have been intolerably dull.

Push the spade in, senses strained to hear if it made contact with anything solid. Gently brush the dirt away, with a paintbrush sometimes, so as not to damage it before bringing it to light. Discover that what you have uncovered is an ordinary rock. Repeat. For weeks. For _months_. Once in a very great while, get lucky and find a two thousand year old cooking pot.

But all of that tedium was amply rewarded when she found a rich site like this one. A Mycenaean _tholos_ tomb, just waiting for her and her crew to open it and learn whatever secrets it contained. The blocks of limestone were tremendous, and fitted together with precision incredible for a time that had not had lasers or steel machines. "Cyclopean masonry", it had been called in the centuries in between its building and the modern era, by people who could not imagine that any humans possessed both skill and strength for such creations.

She had just finished unearthing the entrance when the earthquake started.

At least, she assumed it was an earthquake. There weren't many forces that made deafening sounds, made the ground shake, and threw people onto the ground.

For one second, the fall disoriented her. When her cerebrum, having stepped aside to allow the parietal lobe to take care of things as behooved it in emergencies, resumed its duties, it promptly informed Julia that she had had a concussion and was hallucinating. That was the only explanation for the enraged Cyclops who was raising an enormous uprooted tree in preparation for lowering it again. Only it looked like this time, he would actually smash the archaeologists with it, not just knock them over with reverberations.

The creature opened his mouth to roar. And then Julia's cerebrum drew another conclusion: she wasn't hallucinating, she had merely travelled back thousands of years in time. That was why the Cyclops was speaking ancient Greek.

**"[HOW DARE YOU DESECRATE MY FATHER'S TOMB!]"** the monster was roaring. **"[I WILL ROAST YOU PUNY TWO-EYES ON A STICK AND EAT YOU AND YOUR SONS, WIPING YOUR SEED FROM THE EARTH!]"**

Not all of the crew could understand the giant's threats, but his intentions were clear enough. Recovering from the initial shock, they all scrambled to their feet to run. The Cyclops brought the tree down again, the impact knocking them all off their feet once more. Julia seized her shovel; it was better than no weapon at all. Rising warily, she waited in a half-crouch, holding the shovel at the ready.

"[Stop!]" a voice shouted – again, in ancient Greek. Now Julia _knew_ she was in a time travel hallucination, because standing behind the giant was now a warrior – a _female_ warrior – wearing armor in the style of ancient Greece – though with the colors and emblems of Julia's adopted country.

The warrior let fly three arrows in quick succession. One of them was deflected by the giant's thick leather garment, but the other two sank into his flesh. Growling, the giant lunged for her, but with stunning swiftness, she dropped her bow and whipped out her spear. The Cyclops impaled himself upon it.

The giant roared in pain. The warrior lassoed him with a glowing golden rope, then drew her sword and held it to his throat.

"[Will you return to the cavern beneath Themisyra peacefully? Choose between imprisonment and death.]"

The giant strained mightily against the slender rope, but could not loosen it in the slightest.

"[If I return to Themiscyra, it will be to feast upon the flesh of your sisters, _Amazon_,]" he spat.

"[Then may the gods have mercy upon you in Tartarus,]" the Amazon replied with something almost like sadness, before severing the creature's head.

Wiping and resheathing her sword, the Amazon then looked to the people she had rescued. All of them shakily, slowly approached.

"Thank you," Julia said, and when the warrior only looked at her with incomprehension, repeated it in ancient Greek. Relief showed on the woman's face at hearing words she understood.

"[Are you well, sister? Your world, and I, have need of you.]"

Indiana Jones, eat your heart out.

* * *

Gothamites had long been afraid of the dark. There were all sorts of predators in the shadows. You could never really be sure what might come at you from the dark, with no warning. It was like swimming in the ocean, unable to see whether something was about to eat you or not.

In a city like Gotham, you couldn't stay in at night, not all the time. People work the night shift, they work overtime, they go to a show. So they hurried from one streetlight to the next, they travelled in packs, they kept their hands in their pockets grasping pepper spray and tasers and pistols.

It didn't keep them safe, but it kept them brave enough to go about their lives.

Then, the change.

Dozens of times every night it was seen. Gotham would be going about its usual business – mugging, rape, murder. And with no warning, from out of the darkness he would swoop like a bat out of hell. His black cloak and dizzying speed made him seem like a part of the night itself.

The miscreants were dealt with in short order. Knives and bullets seemed to have no effect on him as he disarmed them, trussed them up, tossed them into the back seats of the nearest police cars.

Really, he gave the criminals an insultingly small amount of attention. As if they were a formality before he could speak to the prospective victims. _Are you all right? Are you hurt?_ And he would take them to the hospital or see them to their cars. Or if there was no need for that, he would just give them a gleaming wide smile before melting back into the night. His rescuees had been afraid of him sometimes, those first few seconds. With what he could apparently do, who could not be afraid?

But when they heard his voice, so concerned, so kind; when they saw that smile, so pure – then his dark clothes and seemingly magical powers weren't intimidating at all. Something about the man made people less afraid.

Soon, Gothamites felt the darkness as warm, comforting.

It was where _he_ lived.

* * *

"What was the inspiration for this plan, would you say?" Lois asked. Just because she was trapped between two armed criminals with a third at the wheel of a speeding car was no reason to pass up a chance to get a story. She might have a chance to escape once they reached their destination, and if she didn't get the scoop, then being kidnapped would have been for nothing.

It was amazing how often people put the need for a sympathetic ear above their own self-preservation. No wonder therapists made so much money. The driver began, "We was watchin' dis movie, had that babe who was in-"

"Shut up!" the man on Lois's right ordered. "Don't tell her anything."

"Wouldn't you like the public to know your side of the story?" Lois asked him. He answered by raising his pistol to her face. She wasn't quite that dedicated to her job, so she stayed quiet, and after a minute he holstered his piece.

"The hell?" the driver grunted, and all of his passengers stared.

Standing in the center of the road ahead of them, feet planted apart, arms folded across her chest, was a tall, raven-haired woman. She didn't seem at all perturbed by the car hurtling rapidly towards her.

"Where'd that bitch escape from?" the thug on Lois's left wondered. It was a fair question, as she apparently believed that a bright blue and red leotard and tights, accessorized with a voluminous red cape, was suitable attire for standing in the middle of the road waiting to get run over.

The driver had slowed down a little, and the leader barked, "Just run over the crazy bitch! She's askin' for it."

Lois cringed as they neared the woman, but half a second before they would have collided with her, she simply rose up into the air.

They drove under her and the driver gave an incredulous glance at the rearview mirror before flooring the gas. The primary-colored woman was _flying_ after them, keeping pace with the car easily. The next instant, she dove down, and a moment later the car was rising into the air.

The thugs were all on the verge of apoplexy, shouting at each other and trying to peer under the car at their captor. Lois made sure her seatbelt was fastened and hoped for the best.

There was a loud wrenching noise, then the car was back on the ground. The driver stomped on the gas pedal, but the only result was a grinding noise. The mystery woman had evidently disabled the vehicle. Now she was tearing off the doors of the car. The thugs opened fire, but the bullets, to everyone's incredulity, simply bounced off her. She leaned into the car and relieved them all of their guns, reaching across Lois to do it. Her deep blue eyes flickered at Lois with a quick little smile of reassurance, and Lois swallowed, because only now did she have the time to notice that her mysterious rescuer was quite stunningly beautiful. Perfectly even features, long glossy black hair with a little spitcurl in the center of her forehead, and a toned, curvaceous body that her brightly colored costume did nothing to hide.

Then she bodily lifted each thug, one at a time, out of the car until she had all three squirming as they dangled from her grip like kittens held by the scruffs of their necks in their mother's teeth. "Don't worry, friends, there's a police station only ten miles away." Then she vanished in a blur of red and blue with all three of them in tow.

Dazed, Lois unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car on shaking legs. She wasn't too dazed to rifle the glove compartment, jotting notes on the vehicle registration and what little other information it yielded. Then she surveyed the scene.

She was far on the outskirts of Metropolis, not even a farm anywhere to be seen. All Lois could see was trees and the empty road. Diana would no doubt feel right at home here.

Resigned, she started walking. Someone would drive along sooner or later, and when she got back to the city, boy, did she have a story.

The story suddenly reappeared beside her, the red-and-blue blur resolving itself into an Olympic athlete with the face of a movie star again. Lois couldn't help jumping.

"May I offer you a ride into town, Miss Lane?"

These words were accompanied by a dazzling smile. Lois could only nod, and then try not to squeak as she was gathered up in those powerful arms and lifted into the air.

And there they were, a hundred yards above the ground, flying toward Metropolis. The view below her was stunning, but the view right beside her even more so. Lois tried to focus on the yellow _S_ on the woman's costume so as not to stare at what was under it too obviously.

"Who are you?" she managed to ask.

That blinding smile again. "I'm someone who wants to help."

Too soon they reached the Daily Planet building. Lois's rescuer set her down on top of it and flew away despite the questions Lois belatedly shouted after her.

Lois watched the blue-red streak fade into the distance before she went inside. Where she sat at her desk and wrote a story guaranteed to get her not only a front-page byline, but also another visit from Superwoman.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet two familiar villains, and also witness a scene I mentally wrote years ago but never thought I'd have the chance to use anywhere.

Tolerating insufferable people was simply part of the nichtclub business. Insufferable people like the newest scion of the Wayne family.

It wasn't his good looks that were objectionable. Well, not very. They did have an annoying habit of addling the wits of all the young women who came into the Iceberg Lounge, and all the older women too, for that matter. But so long as he was a regular visitor, so were all the women who had the bad taste to go in for that sort of flashy, obvious handsomeness. They might not have the sense to realize that his looks were a side effect of youth and would fade by the time he was, oh, fifty or so, but they did have money to spend. The liquor was only marked up by 600%, revenues had to be kept up somehow.

It wasn't his money that was objectionable, either. After all, once Clark Wayne was of age, he brought a lot of that money into the Iceberg Lounge. When he was in an especially good mood, the Dom Perignon tended to flow like water. He was never stingy in lavishing his companions with cocktails and gourmet refreshments. As an added bonus, he himself never seemed to get drunk, so the staff was never forced to deal with the dilemma of dealing with a billionaire's heir in his cups without jeopardizing their relations with the city's wealthy.

Indeed, his behavior in general was above reproach. He never got drunk, never got into fights even where beautiful women were involved, flirted with every female in sight unless she was married, and was an excellent dancer who never confined himself to just one partner an evening and was known to make an impressive display if he paired with a lady who really knew the tango. A bon vivant like that was an asset to a nightclub.

If only he weren't so bloody smug.

Oh, he hid his smugness well, and that only made it the more exasperating. He didn't sit around smirking in pleased satisfaction at the way the women fluttered around making idiots of themselves over him. No, instead the jerk had to act as if he had no idea why all those dizzy dames flocked around him. He cheerfully accepted their flirting as if it had never occurred to him that women wouldn't like him. That innocent boyish charm was infuriating.

But that was just one of the crosses Oswald Cobblepot had to bear.

* * *

The next few weeks were a frenzy of discovery for Julia. Princess Briseis was a walking gold mine for a classics scholar. Julia dutifully taught the Amazon English and the ins and outs of the modern world, while pillaging her mind for every detail of Amazon history that she could. Already Julia had numerous books to her credit, and she was quietly proud of them, but this one would be a seminal text, the definitive work on the supposedly legendary tribe of woman warriors.

And as the days of work, intellectual discovery and mental passion went by, the bond between the two women solidified without them even noticing that they had become the most devoted of friends.

"Legend says that the Amazons scarred their right breasts before puberty, so they wouldn't interfere with archery." Julia deliberately kept her eyes on Briseis's face, but it was obvious enough that she had a complete and unmarred set.

Briseis, remembering how her chest had stung the first time she attempted to pull back a bowstring, said seriously, "I can see the practicality of such a measure. However, I am the only Amazon who has ever gone through puberty. All of my sisters were created by the goddesses as full adults. And none has ever cut her breasts off."

Julia grinned and jotted a few notes. "Another myth bites the dust."

"Does what to it?"

Julia explained the expression.

"Ah. No, Amazons are all 'deep-bosomed maidens'," Briseis said in the tone of a quotation. At Julia's inquiring look, she elucidated, "That was from Sappho."

"That isn't-" Julia stopped. "I'm not familiar with that one."

Briseis shrugged. "She is the favorite poet of the Amazons, even though she had so little sympathy with the warrior way of life."

"You don't sound as if you care for her much."

"Her imagery is exquisite and she captured the joy of life, the beauty of the world. She cast no light on its tragedy. But my sisters love her." Briseis paused. "Perhaps in time I will come to value her as they do. It is not as if I am the only Amazon who has seen tragedy."

"So you have read her work?"

"All Amazons memorize her work. All nine volumes of it," Briseis added a bit ruefully. Then she looked at Julia, startled, because Julia's eyes were wide and shimmering, and though her lips parted, she couldn't speak. "Julia, what is it?"

It was a full minute before Julia found her voice. "Briseis, do you know how much of Sappho's work we still have today?"

"How much?"

"One complete poem, and about two hundred fragments. Some of them only a few words long."

"What happened?"

"Time. Shifting interests. The burning of the library at Alexandria."

"Men," Briseis added.

"Now, now. Some of my best friends are men."

Briseis sat up straighter. "Forgive me, Julia. I did not intend to insult your friends."

Julia's mouth quirked. "No offense taken... sister. But you barely know the sterner sex. They have plenty of good points, and it isn't as if they've cornered the market on evil." At Briseis's frown, Julia rephrased, "Given the opportunity, women are just as prone to evil as men. When you've learned more of the history of 'Man's World', you'll see what I mean. But in the meantime... do you think your people could be persuaded to share a copy of Sappho's works with us benighted denizens of Man's World?"

"I know them by heart, just as I know Homer's epics and the works of Thucydides. I can transcribe them for you myself – but I will have to do it by hand, as I only know them in Greek."

Julia's heart thumped. "The computer can write in Greek. I'll show you." She pushed the button and waited for it to boot up.

Briseis watched the screen, intrigued as always by high technology. Julia opened the word processor that wrote in Greek. "When you've finished, may I translate these into English?"

"Certainly." Briseis began to type, and Julia watched over her shoulder, holding her breath at the beautiful simplicity of the words appearing on the screen. After a couple of minutes, Briseis paused, and Julia bit her lip in frustration. "Do you think the women of Man's World will want to read them?"

"Many will. As will classics scholars, of both sexes." Julia gave a sudden laugh. "There's not a one of them who wouldn't give his right arm to be in my place right now." Till now, Julia had been so electrified by the thought of reading these long lost masterpieces that the coup to her career hadn't even occurred to her.

Briseis looked at her mentor for a moment, then smiled, turning back to the computer. "Then I am gratified that I can repay you for your kindness to me, sister."

Staring reverently at the words that were forming on the screen, Julia said softly, "The debt is now on my side, sister."

* * *

Sending a giant robot to steal jewelry seemed like overkill, but some people just couldn't get their own hands dirty.

Superwoman streaked out of the sky while the robot was shoveling precious gems into itself. Its huge mechanical arms had already knocked down the brick wall of the jewelry store and were scooping up gold chains and glittering gemstones by the bushel. Superwoman paused, hovering in midair, when she saw that it wasn't harming anyone. From the way one of its arms froze when it came too near an employee who was still scampering out of reach, she guessed that it was programmed not to hurt anyone. Must be sensors in the arms.

So she watched the robot gather its loot and then followed it. It wasn't the robot she wanted, but its puppetmaster.

There was another surprise in store. The robot flew. Not nearly as fast as Superwoman could, but she followed it, laughing aloud at the audacity of it. Who would come up with such an unsubtle method of stealing jewels?

She found the answer when she saw the robot land in an empty parking lot, which suddenly opened up and swallowed it. She flew down after it, and discovered a vast underground bunker, brightly lit and crammed with computers, more robots in various stages of production, and various laboratory equipment.

The master of this domain, his bald head going better than it should have with his garish green-and-purple costume, was standing on the ground, regarding his returning robot and the intruder with satisfaction.

Superwoman immediately made a wary glance around. If a criminal looked so confident on seeing a superhero, that meant he had an ace up his sleeve. She saw nothing, so she turned her attention back to him, still alert for a hidden trap.

"Smart of you to program your robot not to hurt humans. The judge will go easier on you," she informed him.

He smiled. "I also programmed it with an override," he said, holding up a remote control. Before Superwoman could swoop down and take it from him, he had pushed a button, and the next thing she knew, two immense metallic claws were reaching for her.

For one moment, she was actually afraid. This robot might be powerful enough to challenge her. That would explain the villain's lack of dismay at her interest. But it only took her a couple of minutes to incapacitate it. The worst damage it inflicted in return was when her abundant black hair got tangled in the joint of one of its claws. Hair-pulling wasn't really a tactic she had expected to encounter from a supervillain.

With both steel claws shattered and the robot's brain smashed, Superwoman swooped down and seized the bald man. "No need to be rough. I'll come quietly," he said with a scowl, and that was precisely what he did, not saying another word during the entire flight to the police station. Superwoman dropped him off and put him out of her mind. Clearly he had underestimated her, pitting that robot against her.

One month later, Lex Luthor escaped from prison. Breaking into the evidence locker was easy for a man of his abilities, and he found the remains of his robot with ease.

And in one of its claws, he found what had been the real objective of the entire enterprise: four long strands of raven hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is true that according to contemporary sources, Sappho's works once filled nine volumes, and now only a tiny handful remains. Read [that handful](http://www.sappho.com/poetry/sappho.html#not%20one%20word) to grasp what a terrible tragedy that loss is. Oh, and the "deep-bosomed maiden" phrase is actually Homer's.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing a Wonder Woman mentor, explaining Jimmy Olsen's crossdressing, and a Gotham villain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: As usual, Grey Bard betaed and helped with concept development.

The Wayne Foundation campaigned, among its many worthy causes, for the replacement of all Gotham's lead pipes with other materials. Like most American cities, Gotham had many such pipes in its subterranean utility vaults, storm drains, and sewers. Due to the expense, replacement proceeded slowly, generally done only when repairs were needed. WayneCorp had of course already replaced any pipes which were in its purview at its own expense. Now CEOs of other large companies in the city found themselves forced to follow suit for the sake of public relations, and the Waynes were laboring to make the replacement a priority among Gothamites at the ballot boxes.

Of course, the health of Gothamites, while a genuine concern, was not their chief reason for doing so. Their chief reason was so that their adopted scion would not have to venture into the tunnels after Killer Croc without being able to see where the reptilian crook was hiding.

The Bat searched the tunnels at a speed only slightly faster than that available to a normal human. At superspeed he could cause even a hulk like Killer Croc terrible injuries, or kill him completely by accident, so instead he moved cautiously.

Killer Croc, lurking behind an ancient lead manhole chute, simply waited for the Bat to come around the corner, and then brought a huge rock down on his head with freakish strength.

No human could have survived being hit with a rock that size.

Croc, who had never believed most of the stories about the Bat's incredible strength and speed, stared openmouthed as the Bat brushed a few small fragments of the rock off his cape. When the Bat seized him and flew to the nearest jail, Croc attacked, but the only damage he was able to do was to the costume.

In a cell that was more concrete than bars, Croc sulked. He had done everything right, it wasn't fair that he should have lost just because some people were even bigger freaks than he was. And how was he supposed to fight someone whose head broke boulders?

"It was a _big_ rock," Croc mourned aloud.

* * *

Jimmy Olsen dashed into the bullpen and made a beeline for his desk.

"Olsen!" Lois was stuffing her notebook into her bag. "You're just in time to accompany me to the press conference."

"Sorry, no can do, Lois!" Jimmy was rummaging through the drawers, filling his pockets with unused rolls of film. "I'm covering the museum opening!"

"Oh, well. Hurry and get into your pantyhose."

Jimmy gave his colleague a quick scowl but did not pause in searching his desk.

The Kent kid looked up from her computer. "Pantyhose?"

"Jimmy's been known to get up in drag from time to time," Lois explained blithely.

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "That was just a disguise to get a story," he tried to explain, but it was too late, Smallville was already off and running.

"That's so wonderful that you feel you can be open with your co-workers about it, Jimmy!" Diana exclaimed.

Everyone in earshot stared at Diana for a second, then put innocent smiles on their faces.

"Of course!" one man said with excessive sincerity. "We accept our Jimmy just the way he is!"

Jimmy felt the blood draining from his face as he saw where this was going.

"It's just fine with us if Jimmy wants to put on a dress now and then," an old-timer who could remember writing stories on a typewriter chimed in. "Heck, I think he looks cute as a button in them!"

The Kent kid was smiling beatifically around at all of them. "This is such a supportive workplace! It's great the way you're all so accepting of Lois, me, and Jimmy."

"That's because Lois tends to have people who don't accept her for breakfast," the old-timer muttered.

"It is great!" Jimmy told her, seeing a way to get a little of his own back. "Why, it wouldn't bother us one bit if you or Lois started bringing your girlfriends here to the office." Lois's gleeful smile died. "You're welcome to hold hands, kiss, whatever you like here at the office, just like if you had boyfriends." The other men made various noises of agreement, eyes gleaming above their friendly smiles.

Diana ducked her head. "I guess I'm too much of a small town girl for public displays of affection like that, but that is still so sweet of you all!"

Lois stalked to the door. "Nice try, Jimmy. Remember you're covering the awards ceremony with me tonight." She paused on the threshold for a parting shot. "I'm a little too short, but maybe Diana will lend you something of hers."

Diana looked genuinely puzzled. "I doubt any of my clothes would fit you, Jimmy, but if you really need...."

"I'm fine," Jimmy said hastily. "Besides, I've got to go, I'm running late." He swung his camera bag onto his shoulder and hurried out. He was just in time to catch the same elevator as Lois.

"I guess we're even, Olsen," she said grudgingly as they reached the bottom.

* * *

Briseis had always been told that Man's World was warlike, yet she had not seen even one person wearing armor. Her own armor received wary looks everywhere she went, and most people gave her a wide berth; perhaps they had become so unwarlike that even one lone warrior frightened them. She had also been told terrible things about how oppressed women were, yet everywhere she went, women walked the streets openly, unchaperoned, showing no deference that she could detect to the men they spoke to. Perhaps things had changed in three thousand years.

In between hunting down the creatures which had invaded Man's World, Briseis wandered around Julia's city, marvelling at the towers that seemed to reach the sky, the immense bridges spanning large bodies of water, the horseless conveyances that sped around and even flew through the air. It did not take Briseis long to resolve to ally herself with the people who had built these things, and learn from them, as soon as opportunity allowed.

The more she saw of Man's World, the more she began to think that perhaps her sisters had been wrong to isolate themselves from it so completely. Whatever its faults, there was a great deal to be learned here.

Briseis did not fully appreciate just how much until one evening as she was walking the streets of Boston. As she passed an alley, she heard a young male voice speaking in threatening tones.

"Hand over your wallet, old man, or we'll wipe up the floor with you!"

Briseis had left Themiscyra to battle monsters, not men, but she could not simply walk by. She turned into the alley and saw four young men, all holding knives or other weapons (thankfully, none of the deadly firearms of Man's World), surrounding an elderly man with olive skin and dark glasses covering his eyes.

The old man smiled as if quite composed. "I do not think so," he said. His inflection was different from the others she had heard so far.

"Then we'll take it from you," the young man growled, and all four of them pounced.

Briseis sprinted towards them, but after a few steps stopped to watch in simple disbelief. The old man was tossing the youths around as if they were toys, angling his body deftly, his arms and legs moving with poetic certainty.

It was the most beautiful thing Briseis had ever seen.

When all four of the youths were lying on the ground, groaning and harmless, the old man bowed in her direction. "Thank you for coming to my aid, Princess Briseis."

"How do you know me?"

"I knew that our paths would cross."

"You are an oracle as well as a warrior," Briseis stated.

"You might say that." There was something impish in the corners of his mouth when he said, "My name is I Ching."

Briseis inclined her head. "Greetings, Mr. Ching."

His smile widened. "I should have known you would not get my little joke. My real name is I-xin Ching."

"Will you teach me how to do what you just did? Your combat skills surpass anything we Amazons know."

"That is precisely why I have sought you out." The old man retrieved his cane from the ground and used it to scout the ground before him before he walked towards her.

She frowned. "Pardon me, but what are you doing with that cane?"

"I suppose there are no blind Amazons," he replied, as if to himself.

"You are blind?"

"Yes."

"When can we start?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois Lane sees Superwoman again, the Bat starts to see that Gotham has problems he can't solve by punching, and Briseis acquires a protégée.

Lois Lane wasn't the first to be surprised and irked by the Kent kid's exuberance in the face of tedium, only the most recent.

“These artifacts must be almost two hundred years old!” Diana breathed.

Lois shrugged. “I'm a right now kind of girl.”

She was still annoyed that she'd had to accompany the cub to cover a boring exhibit. Unless one of the swells here got drunk and did something incriminating while under the influence, this was bound to be a snooze. She looked around hopefully, but all of them seemed to be sipping their first cocktail with regrettable restraint.

“The things I stoop to on a slow news day,” she muttered.

She went to the door of the Ladies' and found that it didn't budge. She frowned; she knew it was a large room with multiple stalls, and there wasn't a keyhole on this side, so how could there be a lock on the other? Someone had to have barricaded it.

She might never have been bitten by a radioactive spider like a certain fellow newshound she had read about as a child, but she had a sense that tingled nonetheless.

She was scanning the room for some alternate way of getting a peek when the Ladies' room door abruptly melted. Standing in the resulting hole was a statuesque woman in black and red. She had a cascade of red hair – not the usual copper, but a vivid, almost molten orange. And her eyes were glowing red.

“My name is Volcana,” she announced. “And now that I've introduced myself, everybody out.”

Volcana lifted her arms with a confident smile and sent streams of fire at the wall.

People had learned in recent years that the proper response to people in flashy costumes accompanied by odd happenings was to get the hell out of the way. Everyone promptly crammed themselves into the two doors – including, Lois noticed with some disdain, Diana, who was one of the first out the door as the walls started to burn.

As for Lois, she hesitated, then grabbed a fire extinguisher off the wall and ducked behind the fancy marble counter which was supporting the hors d'oeuvres. She was pretty sure that rocks had a high melting point.

And that Superwoman would show up before things got _really_ dangerous.

She could hear Volcana murmuring, “Mm-hm, this one will fetch a _nice_ price,” and the clink of antiques being put into a bag.

The flames were licking away at the wall, ensuring that anybody with any sense would stay away. Lois resisted the smoke as long as she could. She had just succumbed to a coughing fit when the roof caved in.

Lois quickly covered her head with her arms; a few chunks of debris bounced off her, but they weren't large enough to hurt her.

There was a furious cry from Volcana. “Superwoman!”

_Why do they always sound so surprised?_ Lois wondered as she cautiously raised her head.

Superwoman was tearing the ceiling open, heedless of the flames. That done, she flew away, only to return a moment later carrying the tank from a water tower. Once over the gaping hole she upended the tank, which she had had the foresight to make some large holes in. Lois barely had time to suck in a breath and hold it before the deluge soaked her.

Superwoman then swooped down and scooped Lois up, and deposited her in a safe spot a short distance away.

Lois was dripping and still coughing. She couldn't help but think that she was finally seeing Superwoman again and looked like a drowned rat. Superwoman, as usual, looked like a goddess. And was regarding her with what looked like exasperation.

“Maybe they give the Pulitzer posthumously,” she chided before taking off again. Only to find that being wet hardly slowed Volcana down.

Lois watched, and then pulled out her cellphone to call in her story. Adding in a few little editorial remarks which ought to get Superwoman's attention where flattery hadn't.

  


* * *

It happened a dozen times every night in Gotham. A man made a grab for a woman's purse. The woman screamed as she fell to the pavement. A nearby man, tall and wearing a blue jacket, impulsively ran to her defense. A second man, middle-aged and balding, hesitated only an instant before following. The purse-snatcher wasn't a big guy and didn't seem to be armed.

The blue-jacketed man yelled, “Hey, you! What do you think you're doing!”

“Yeah!” the middle-aged man chimed in, borrowing courage from the other's example. “Beat it!”

The purse-snatcher, impressed by this manly display, took to his heels.

He had only run a few feet when a black-and-grey shape swooped down, cape spreading like wings behind it, and seized the man.

“AAAAAAAAAGGHH!” the purse-snatcher screamed.

“It's the Bat!” the middle-aged man exclaimed.

The woman on the pavement sat bolt upright. “Ohmigod! Don't hurt him! Don't hurt him!”

The Bat paused in midair. That wasn't the usual response of rescuees.

Sensing his captor's hesitation, the purse-snatcher gabbled, “Yeah, don't hurt me! I didn't hurt her! Look at her, she's fine!”

The Bat looked at the woman, who had gotten up and was still pleading, “Let him go! Please! Let him go!”

Holding the purse-snatcher by his collar, the Bat flew to the top of the nearest skyscraper. He had never seriously hurt anyone, but just being up there was intimidation aplenty for most people.

Tonight's purse-snatcher was no exception. All the Bat had to do was hold onto him and with no prompting, he was babbling out the entire story, interspersed with pleas for mercy.

“Don't drop me, man! I never hurt anybody in my life! All I did was steal a little money! I'll give it all back, I swear!”

The Bat gave him a little shake. “Why was your victim so concerned that I might hurt you?”

After a few of the snatcher's babbled sentences, the Bat could see where he was going. Gothamites got familiar with standard con games, though oddly, there were always plenty still willing to fall for them. The victim had been the snatcher's girlfriend, her blue-jacketed champion his brother. With the attention of their mark - the middle-aged man - disarmed, they would have robbed him. If they had been planning to hurt the man as well, the snatcher didn't admit it.

The Bat was fuming by the time the story was over. “You made that man think he was saving that girl from a crime, so that you could commit one on him?”

The supposed purse-snatcher swallowed. “We gotta make a living?” he tried.

The Bat sighed. “Room and board will be provided for you and your accomplices for the next few years,” he said, before giving the con man a swift flight to the nearest squad car. The brother and the girlfriend had both already fled, but for someone with the Bat's abilities, finding them was child's play. He turned them in too, before flying through the Gotham night in search of more dastardly deeds to foil.

Shortly before dawn, lying in bed, he reflected that he should feel more satisfied by that particular exploit. He had set out to catch one crook and instead caught three.

But he would just as soon have never laid eyes on any of them.

  


* * *

With the winged sandals Hermes had given her, Briseis went wherever the monsters were sighted. Julia's advice to talk to the chroniclers of Man's World had been right; they always heard about everything that happened first, and got into the habit of notifying her about sightings of the beasts of ancient Greece. So did the superpowered warriors of the regiment she had been invited to join, and they often joined her in battle against them.

Which was why she was informed immediately when the seven-headed Hydra, the monster that had murdered her mother, climbed out of the sea onto a beach and started eating people. She paused only long enough to don her armor and her winged sandals before rushing to the scene.

By the time she had arrived, various uniformed men and women had removed as many civilians as they could, and soldiers were on their way with guns large enough to penetrate the dragon's hide. Briseis did not wait for them.

Usually she removed Hermes' sandals as soon as she reached her destination, but this time she kept them on. She could not direct her flight with much precision, not like the warriors Superwoman or Hawkgirl or many others, but they allowed her to evade the creature's many heads. With another of the gods' gifts, the golden lasso made from Gaea's girdle, she bound its seven heads together. It screeched in rage, but the lasso was not breakable by any such creature.

Briseis alighted on the ground and filled the monster's heart with arrows, probably far more than was really necessary. It was only when it crashed to the ground, dead as a doornail, that she was able to stop. And only then that she realized that her cheeks were wet with tears.

Ignoring them, she surveyed the wreckage the monster had left. Several stilted houses had been shattered, and small bits of human beings dotted the sand. Briseis strode purposefully to the nearest wrecked house and searched for signs of life.

There were none. She moved on to the next house, and by that time the man's world soldiers had joined her in the search. One of them, with the insignia of high rank on his shoulders and chest, approached her. “Your, uh, Your Majesty, is there anything we should know about that carcass before we remove it?” She frowned at him, puzzled, and he elucidated, “Is it poison, or anything?”

“Ah. I do not believe so, sir.” She made a mental note to learn to discern ranks by insignia so that she could address soldiers correctly.

For the next two hours, Briseis pulled people, dead or alive, out of the remains of houses, to be whisked away by ambulances. One house yielded the bodies of a man and a woman, and a still-living girl of twelve.

“Don't be afraid. The danger is past,” Briseis told her. The girl just looked at her.

Briseis lifted the girl and carried her to the nearest ambulance. When she set her down on a stretcher, a young man draped a blanket around the girl. Briseis spoke gently. “What is your name, sister?”

After a minute the girl swallowed and said in a rasping voice, “Drusilla.”

“Were those your parents?”

Drusilla nodded mutely.

“The hydra killed my mother as well,” Briseis told her. “It will never harm anyone again.” Not knowing what else to say, she laid her hand on the girl's shoulder for a moment before resuming work. But the girl's face stayed with her for the rest of the day.

It was a few weeks later that Briseis captured the minotaur and gave him the choice between death and imprisonment under Themiscyra. He grudgingly accepted imprisonment. The following morning Julia read an account of the battle at breakfast. (The people of man's world seemed never to get enough history, scarcely waiting for it to occur before recording it.)

“Oh, poor girl,” Julia remarked aloud as she finished reading.

“What girl?”

“The one you saved after the hydra killed her parents. She doesn't have any other family, so she's going into care.”

“Why do you call her 'poor girl' if she is being cared for?”

This led to long explanations by Julia, who alternately praised the system's efforts to provide for orphaned children and admitted the perils faced by any child without a family of her own. Briseis brooded over the matter for two days before donning the winged sandals again and presenting herself at the institution where the girl was currently housed.

“There is a girl here, Drusilla,” she announced. “I am going to care for her.”

It wasn't as simple as that, she discovered, but heroes with superhuman powers were held in high esteem in man's world. Members of the Justice League spoke to the authorities on her behalf. At last Drusilla was brought to her.

Drusilla's eyes were very large in her pale face. Briseis wondered if she had looked like that after Hippolyte's death.

“If you wish, Drusilla, I will look after you now,” she said. “And on Themiscyra, my sisters will care for you as one of their own.”

Drusilla said nothing for a long minute. At length she asked, “Will you teach me to fight those monsters?”

Briseis was surprised. “You do not have Amazon strength, Drusilla. That would be very dangerous.”

Drusilla only looked at her, and suddenly Briseis remembered the efforts of her sister Amazons to dissuade her from the path that had chosen her. She clasped the girl's hand.

“Very well, then. Your training can begin at once, if you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drusilla was the name of the Wonder Girl from the 70's tv show.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana Kent interviews Princess Briseis of Themiscyra and Gotham playboy philanthropist Clark Wayne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kirax2 helped me a lot with coming up with questions for these interviews. Thanks, Kirax!

**Diana Kent**: Princess Briseis, let me start by thanking you for stopping the Minotaur who was rampaging through Boston last week. We're all grateful for your help.

**Briseis**: I was only doing my duty as given to me by the gods of Olympus.

**DK**: Which brings us to our first question: you know, of course, that people outside of Themiscyra stopped worshiping the Olympians thousands of years ago. Now that you've entered the outside world, do you have any doubts about clinging to a religion the rest of the world sees as outmoded?

**B**: (pauses) I have seen the gods with my own eyes, and spoken with them. Perhaps if you on Man's World had remained faithful, the gods would still grace you with their presence.

**DK**: Theology aside, what do you think of "Man's World"? How does it differ from what you grew up with?

**B**: It's a great deal noisier. We don't have machines, of course, and not nearly so many people. And since Themiscyra is a small island and Amazons are immortal, we all know each other well. It is very strange to see hundreds of strangers everywhere I go.

**DK**: I have to ask: what do you think of men?

**B**: I fear I expected the worst of them. I assumed they would all be violent and oppressive. Since coming here, I have discovered that men are simply human beings. Many of them deserving of respect.

**DK**: And perhaps more than respect?

**B**: If you are asking if I want one for a lover, the answer is no.

**DK**: If you don't mind my asking, what sort of romantic customs do the Amazons have? Do Amazons marry each other?

**B**: Many Amazons choose celibacy. For those who do not, our liaisons are often brief. Sometimes when two Amazons form a special romantic bond, they have a ceremony formalizing their relationship, which is based on Greek wedding customs, but the relationship is not expected to be permanent and seldom is. Remember that we are immortal and there is no possibility of our making each other pregnant, so we don't need the same kind of guarantees that mortal men and women need from each other.

**DK**: And is there a special Amazon for you on Themiscyra?

**B**: (sighing, obviously bored with this line of questioning) No.

**DK**: All right, so, I understand that all of the other Amazons are three thousand years old, but you are only forty, I believe?

**B**: Thirty-nine.

**DK**: How did that happen?

**B**: My mother, Queen Hippolyte, asked the gods for me, and they gave me to her.

**DK**: Do you have a father?

**B**: No.

**DK**: If your mother was the queen, shouldn't that make you queen now?

**B**: I think it would be absurd for a thirty-nine-year-old to attempt to govern women thousands of years old, even if I had any interest in the job. People on Man's World find this strange when I tell them, but we elected our sister Thalestris to be our new queen.

**DK**: ...You elected your queen? Okay then. I understand that you declined an offer to join the Justice League. Would you mind telling us why?

**B**: I was honored by the invitation. I may accept it when I have stopped all of the monsters that escaped from Themiscyra. But in the meantime, that is my mission.

**DK**: So you aren't in a hurry to go back home?

**B**: Man's World is an interesting place. I would like to learn a great deal more from it.

  


**Diana Kent**: Mr. Wayne-

**Clark Wayne**: Please, call me Clark.

**DK**: Clark, then. The whole country has been impressed with your recent philanthropical endeavours. Particularly the black tie dinner last month raising funds for your new program for underprivileged children a worthy cause, I'm sure everyone would agree.

**CW**: I hope so. But all I did was organize the fundraiser. The program itself is organized by Dr. Leslie Thompkins I really wouldn't know how best to put those funds to use.

**DK**: So why the sudden interest? Up till now you've been known as a party hound.

**CW**: I hope I still am. I... can't point to any particular event that made me start thinking about this. My parents have always donated a lot to good causes, I guess I'm just catching up. I certainly can't solve all Gotham's problems by myself, but I can help.

**DK**: What other plans do you have for the future?

**CW**: We're - my parents and I are - looking into ways to help parolees find honest employment, and we've made a couple of proposals to the city council for improved security. I think we'll keep on looking for new ways to help, but that's what we're working on right now.

**DK**: Speaking of your parents, your father is a doctor. Do you plan to follow in his footsteps there?

**CW**: No, I don't think so.

**DK**: Do you intend to enter any profession, or are you just going to keep being a jet-setter?

**CW**: I think that helping to run Wayne Enterprises and the Wayne Foundation is profession enough for me. Lucius Fox can't do it all.

**DK**: So there's no truth to the rumor that you have political aspirations?

**CW**: Good grief, no. I don't know how that one even got started.

**DK**: What about the rumor that you've been dating Paris Hilton?

**CW**: (smiling) No comment.

**DK**: Or Angelina Jolie?

**CW**: No comment.

**DK**: Is there any romance at all in your life?

**CW**: (still smiling) No comment.

**DK**: Thank you for your time, Clark.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Briseis acquires another protegee, and Lois Lane interviews Superwoman.

Lois was up late in her apartment, the news on and the papers spread in front of her, catching up on the world in general, when the biggest story in town tapped on her window.

She quickly opened it and said, as if she were used to people flying through her sixth-story window, “How nice to see you, Superwoman. Would you like some coffee?”

“That won't be necessary.” Superwoman settled on the floor and Lois tried not to gawk too obviously. In these mundane surroundings, she was even more magnificent than usual, all beautifully toned muscles and curves where they would do the most good. And that face, she could have been a model or a movie star.

“I didn't get to thank you for rescuing me from Volcana,” Lois said, wondering as she said it if it were obvious that she had stayed behind to get a look at, and maybe a few words with, Superwoman.

“Thank me? You wrote in your article that the people of Metropolis don't have any guarantee that my powers won't drive me 'round the bend like Volcana's did to her.”

“That was a throwaway comment-”

“It could make people I'm trying to help afraid of me.”

“Then give me an interview. Tell the world about yourself so no one will be afraid – well, no one but the bad guys.”

And so Superwoman told Lois her story. How the gods had created her by giving life to a clay statue. How they had blessed her with extraordinary abilities. And how they had charged her with using those powers to serve her fellow man for the glory of Olympus.

She declined to disclose the extent of her abilities or anything about what she did when she wasn't heroing.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Lois asked, trying to ask as if it were no more important than any other question.

“No.” Lois recognized, or thought she did, the ironic glint in the other woman's eye, that meant that _boy_friends were not at issue.

“Girlfriend?”

“No,” and this time there was the slightest hint of wistfulness. _Score,_ thought Lois.

“I think that's enough material for your exclusive, isn't it?” Superwoman stood and headed for the window.

“Oh – I suppose. But-”

It was too late. Superwoman was gone.

It would be over a year before Lois saw her again.

* * *

From Olympus, the gods looked into several points in the universe at once.

“The Titans can never return to Earth,” Zeus declared. He should know, it was he who had banished them.

“But they are gathering worshippers,” Hera objected. “The Seeds, unwanted orphans from dozens of worlds.”

Artemis shrugged. “Only enough to keep them alive. Not nearly enough to be a threat to us.”

“It would not concern me,” Zeus murmured, “except that one of them is from Earth. The Earth is our realm now.”

The Olympians considered for some time. As mortals reckon time, it was months before Artemis proposed her solution.

“Then the Seed who is on Earth must be taught to respect us Olympians. We shall entrust her to the care of our loyal worshippers. I shall tell them myself.”

As the only Amazon who was not on Themiscyra, it fell to Princess Briseis to fetch young Troia and take her to the island.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those unfamiliar with this bit of canon about Donna Troy AKA Troia AKA Wonder Girl, a bit more about the Titan Seeds can be read [here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Titans_of_Myth_%28comics%29#Titans_Seeds).
> 
> Also: up till now each installment has had one snippet about each character. That won't always be true from now on.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luthor figures it out.

In his underground laboratory, Lex Luthor completed weeks of work and lowered his head wearily over his copious notes. It was useless.

For months now he had worked night and day, studying Superwoman's DNA from the strands of her hair he had retrieved from the grip of his robot. Somewhere in them, he had believed, he would find the secret of her power, and from that, how to defeat her. Perhaps he could even find some way to acquire her powers for himself.

There was nothing. According to her DNA, Superwoman was a completely normal human being.

Without moving, Luthor mentally reviewed every photograph of Superwoman the papers had published. Not that he needed to, he had already scrutinized every one for any sign of some sort of device that she might have been using to fly or move heavy things. But in that skintight, primary-colored costume, there wasn't room for so much as a fountain pen.

Her powers weren't supplied by machines. They weren't in her genes. That only left one thing.

“Why did it have to be magic?” he groaned.

Maybe he could find a wizard to work with.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a job for Superwoman.

Lois pushed the button on her cell phone. “Lois Lane,” she announced, still typing up the governor's press conference from that morning.

“Ms. Lane, this is Sergeant Riley of the MPD,” a rapid voice said. “Do you know where Superwoman is right now?”

Lois took half a second to draw in a sharp breath. Riley was a brave and honest cop, but he had made no secret of his disapproval of her inclinations, had said unpleasant things to her face more than once. For him to ask her about Superwoman, with all the (sadly unfounded) rumors about the two of them, this had to be important.

“She was in Gotham yesterday, pulling people out of a burning building. Why, what's going on?”

“If you have any way of contacting her, kindly tell her to get to the street in front of Cameron Tower. Fast.”

Riley hung up, and Lois left the press conference story unfinished on her computer. Grabbing her bag and rummaging to make sure her camera, pad and pens were in it, she barked, “Smallville! I don't suppose Superwoman told you where she was going after she gave you those nice humble comments after the fire last night?”

The Kent kid looked up from her desk; she was going through a thick folder of material on something she was working on. “No, why?”

“Something's going down near Cameron Tower.” With that Lois was out the door.

Diana waited a few seconds before closing the folder and tucking it into the top drawer. “I think I need more coffee,” she muttered to no one in particular, before rising from her desk and vanishing from the newsroom.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superwomen showdown.

A blue-and-red streak appeared over 9th Street and halted in front of Cameron Tower. Superwoman paused high in the air to size up the situation.

The situation proved to be a redhaired woman in skintight green who was causing extensive damage to Cameron Tower and the neighboring buildings. Superwoman only had to observe her for a few seconds to realize that the woman in green had the power of flight, and strength approaching her own.

“WHERE IS SUPERWOMAN?” the redhead demanded of the people huddled on the street below.

“Right behind you,” Superwoman replied in a commanding voice. The stranger turned to see Superwoman hovering a few yards above her, feet together as if she were standing on solid ground, arms folded, expression stern. She had found that this pose was very effective.

The redhead's beautiful face lit up at the sight. “Defend yourself, Superwoman!” she ordered before launching herself at the other woman.

Superwoman was knocked back into Cameron Tower, shattering a few windows. She dodged the redhead's next lunge, unfortunately leaving her to make a fairly large hole in the wall, before seizing the stranger from behind, capturing her arms.

“Who are you? Why are you attacking me?” Superwoman demanded. The redhead did not deign to answer, only escaped her grasp with a fluid motion that flowed gracefully into a solid kick to Superwoman's blue-clad midsection.

After that, the fight got serious.

“I like catfights as much as the next guy,” Lois heard a man mutter behind her, “but I prefer them without millions of dollars of property damage.”

She didn't bother to turn to see who it was. Many people had taken cover behind the police barricades, huddling behind cars or each other as they watched the two well-matched fighters in the sky above them.

The redhead charged straight at Superwoman, fists ready. Superwoman blocked the blows and hurled the redhead away. The redhead collided with the collection of antennae and satellite dishes atop Cameron Tower, reducing them all to scrap. Superwoman regarded the sight for a moment before turning and speeding away.

“COWARD!” the redhead cried angrily, and took off after her.

“I didn't think Superwoman was losing,” Sergeant Riley said slowly as he cautiously straightened up.

Lois looked in the direction the two had flown, seeing the city map in her head. “I don't think she was. I think she was luring the newcomer to some area where they'll cause less damage. Metropolis Park, maybe.”

Riley shut the squad car door they had been crouching behind. “Uh. It was. Good of you. To call Superwoman.”

“I didn't, Sergeant. I don't have her phone number or anything. She heard about this some other way.”

Riley studied her with narrow eyes for a moment before joining his fellows in dispersing the crowd and cordoning off the piles of rubble.

Lois ran the two blocks to where she had parked her car and headed for Metropolis Park.

Her guess was right, and she arrived just in time to see the redhead plummet from the sky right into a formerly beautifully arranged bed of assorted tulips and lie there gasping for breath, eyes unfocused.

Superwoman swooped down to pin her attacker, one strong hand on the redhead's creamy throat. “Now, who are you? Why are you here?”

It was a minute before the stranger recovered enough to make a sound. And when she did, to the astonishment of the few onlookers who hadn't had the sense to flee the scene, that sound was a peal of delighted laughter.

“You are worthy!” she declared.

Superwoman was bewildered, but did not loosen her hold on the other.

But the gorgeous stranger showed no more sign of violence. She lay on the crushed tulips, long shapely limbs relaxed, and smiled up at her opponent with contentment.

“I am Maxima , Queen of Almerac. I have come to test your mettle. By besting me in single combat, you have proven yourself worthy to be my consort.”

In the stunned silence which followed, Lois wondered if it might be possible to make Superwoman jealous. If the Kent girl had been on hand, Lois would have asked her out on the spot.

But of course she wasn't. Kent never was around at times like these.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxima makes her offer.

“What do you mean, you're not interested?”

Superwoman had never seen anyone look as poleaxed as Maxima did at this moment. Even the first few times people had seen her flying and lifting cars with ease.

Concerned for the onlookers, Superwoman had suggested that she and Maxima fly to some isolated place to discuss her offer. If you went far enough west there were vast stretches of virtually empty desert. If Maxima turned out not to take rejection well, all she was likely to damage was cacti.

Maxima turned out not to take rejection well.

It wasn't surprising. Besides being a queen, Maxima was quite stunningly beautiful. Superwoman might prefer a rather different type of woman – one with scruples, for example – but it wasn't as if she hadn't noticed that.

“No one on this planet can give you the sort of challenge your prowess deserves.” Maxima's voice was dismissive.

Superwoman laughed outright at that. “The many criminals still at large in Metropolis would beg to differ.”

Maxima's confidence was undiminished. “And I can give you what no Earth woman could.”

The brunette smiled. It was hard not to be amused at that degree of arrogance.

The alien queen said one word, very softly, and wiped the amusement from her quarry's face.

“Children.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxima does not handle rejection well.

It wasn't that Superwoman hadn't been tempted. She would be afraid to take time off from hero-ing to carry a child, and there was no sense pretending that seeing her own genes passed on would not be... gratifying. She had assumed that she would simply have to compromise, and now it seemed that alien biology had offered her a loophole.

But somehow, she suspected that Maxima was not the girl for her.

“You - you cad! You bounder! You temptress! You hussy!”

It wasn't the name-calling that really bothered Superwoman. It was Maxima's habit of throwing a car in between each as punctuation.

“You have the whole universe to choose from! I'm not the only fish in the sea!” Superwoman protested, catching a two-door before it could hurtle into a nearby grocery store in which numerous people had taken cover. Going to an unpopulated area hadn't helped as much as Superwoman had hoped. When she'd made it clear that her No was a firm one, Maxima had sped to the nearest town to let off some steam.

“If you were going to refuse my offer, honor demanded that you let me win our match!” Maxima declared.

Superwoman dove to intercept Maxima's charge towards a telephone pole before she could uproot the thing. “Sorry I'm not up on Almeracian etiquette, Your Highness. I meant no offense.”

“You will learn the price of insulting a warrior of Almerac! We will match again, and this time I will not be defeated!”

Maxima tackled Superwoman again and the two of them grappled fiercely. After several minutes, Superwoman hurled Maxima against a nearby parked car. It took Maxima a second to rally, but when she did, she lifted the now dented car to hurl it at her opponent. Too late she realized her mistake. It was an older car made of heavier materials – a mass of Detroit steel. The unexpected weight of it threw Maxima off balance. If Superwoman evaded the car, as she was all too likely to do, Maxima's current unbalanced posture would give her an edge. Superwoman had won.

But Superwoman didn't take her shot. Instead she wasted precious seconds scooping up a startled boy on a bicycle a hair before the car would have flattened him. The car smashed against a couple of venerable old trees.

“You!” Maxima declared again, and this time her tone was not outrage, but disgust. “You coward! You weakling!”

Superwoman shot her a bewildered look as she helped the boy regain his balance on the ground. The onlookers seemed equally startled by this outburst.

“You had me! I know you saw the opening! You could have seized the opportunity to defeat me, and instead, you threw it away for the sake of some random civilian! He is not even of noble rank!”

The boy, forgivably, responded with an epithet his mother had told him not to use.

“And to think I nearly gave my hand to such a-” Maxima broke off in the middle of the sentence and soared into the sky.

Superwoman followed to make certain she was returning to her spaceship. When it rose into the stratosphere she breathed a sigh of relief.


End file.
